Rome wasn't built in a day
Alex had never expected his college life to take this kind of turn. Heād moved to New York for school, planning to live on campus like most students, but when he found a better deal on an off-campus apartment that financial aid would cover, he jumped on it. The apartment was in a decent neighborhood, close to the subway, and the landlord didnāt ask too many questions. Seemed like a win.
What he hadnāt planned on, though, wasĀ Frankāhis new roommate.
Frank was⦠something else. The guy was like a time capsule from a decade ago, straight out ofĀ Jersey Shore. From the gelled-back hair, the deep tan, ridiculous yelling at football and ufc matches every weekend, the flashy chains, to the relentless love of tank tops and gold watches. Alex wasnāt sure if Frank was for real or if this was just an elaborate, extended joke.
But hereās the thing: despite his douchey exterior, Frank was actually a pretty nice guy. Sure, he blasted club music at ungodly hours and flexed in the mirror every time he passed it, but Frank was always chill. Heād offer Alex food whenever he cooked, made sure the apartment was clean, and always gave him a heads-up when he had people over. Plus, Frank clearly knew what he was doing in the gym. The guy was shredded, and Alex had to admit, Frankās discipline when it came to his diet and workout routine was impressive.
It didnāt take long before Alexās curiosity got the best of him.
One day, after weeks of seeing Frank pound protein shakes and head to the gym religiously, Alex asked him for some advice. He had always been a casual gym-goer, but seeing Frankās dedication made him wonder if he could up his own game.
āYo, Frank,ā Alex said one afternoon as they sat in the living room. āWhat do you usually eat for those gains, man? And how do you stay so consistent?ā
Frank grinned, pausing theĀ DJ Pauly DĀ remix playing on his speakers. āBro, itās all about focus foods and the right lifts. Stick to lean meats, eggs, beans, lots of veggies. And you gotta hit the weights hard. No shortcuts.ā
Alex nodded, scribbling down some notes on his phone. āGot any recommendations? Like content or something I can watch?ā
Frankās grin grew wider. āOh, for sure. Iāll send you some stuff. Thereās Dom Mazzetti, Vinny Guadagninoāsome good shit, bro. But hey, Iāll send you my playlist too. Got a WAV file I use at the gym that keeps me hyped.ā
Alex raised an eyebrow. āA playlist?ā
āYeah, yeah,ā Frank said, waving his hand dismissively. āItās got some fire tracks. Also, I threw in some personal affirmations underneath it, helps me stay focused during my lifts. You probably wonāt even notice them, but they help, bro. Trust me.ā
Alex wasnāt really buying into the whole āsubliminal affirmationā thing. It sounded like some weird self-help nonsense. But Frank was shredded, and if these little tricks worked for him, maybe they were worth a shot.
Later that evening, Alex plugged in his headphones and hit play on Frankās WAV file. It started withĀ āLucky, Lucky, Lucky Meāāa male cover that felt oddly calming. The song transitioned into upbeat remixes likeĀ āFireballāĀ and other club tracks that seemed to pump adrenaline into his veins. Somewhere in between, Sinatraās smooth voice made an appearance, bringing a strange, nostalgic energy to the mix.
As the playlist played, Alex caught faint whispers beneath the musicābarely noticeable.Ā āYou love the gym. You crave the weights. Tanning makes you feel amazing. You rep the Italian pride with every lift.ā
He chuckled to himself.Ā This subliminal shit canāt be real,Ā he thought.Ā But, whateverāFrank swears by it.
The playlist ended withĀ āLucky, Lucky MeāĀ again, and as Alex dozed off that night, the tune echoed faintly in his head.
The changes didnāt happen overnight, but as the days went by, Alex began to notice subtle differences. It started with his workouts. Heād always been someone who worked out occasionally, but now there was something different. One morning, as he walked past the gym on his way to class, he felt an urgeāa need to lift. It wasnāt just about getting in shape anymore. Something about the weights called to him, pulling him in.
He ended up inside, grabbing a set of dumbbells and diving into a full workout. By the time he finished, he was drenched in sweat, but instead of feeling exhausted, he felt exhilarated. There was a rushāan energy that coursed through him, leaving him wanting more.
From that point on, the gym became part of his daily routine. At first, he didnāt even realize it was happening. He started following Frankās tipsālifting heavier, focusing on compound movements, and pushing himself harder with each session. His muscles responded quickly, growing faster than they ever had before. His shirts started to fit tighter, hugging his chest and arms in ways they never had before. Every time he looked in the mirror, he couldnāt help but flex, admiring his progress.
It wasnāt just the gym either. One afternoon, Alex caught himself in front of the bathroom mirror, noticing how pale his skin looked under the fluorescent lights. Without thinking much of it, he booked an appointment at the tanning salon down the street. After his first session, he looked at himself in the mirror, marveling at the golden glow on his skin. It made him feel good, confidentālike he was stepping into a new version of himself.
Tanning became part of his routine, just like the gym. He started looking forward to that golden glow, the way it made his muscles stand out more, and how it just feltĀ right.
One weekend, Alex found himself wandering into a clothing store, drawn to a section of tank tops with bold printsāItalian flags, American flags, vibrant colors that screamed confidence. He picked up a few without thinking twice, the fabric feeling perfect against his newly defined arms. When he got home and slipped into one of the tanks, he stood in front of the mirror, flexing his biceps. The tank hugged his body in all the right places, and as he admired his reflection, a grin spread across his face.
It wasnāt just the clothes that made him feel this wayāit was the pride, the feeling of representing his heritage with every lift, every flex. It feltĀ right.
The most surprising change came with his voice. At first, it was barely noticeableāa slight shift in his accent, a few new words slipping into his vocabulary. But as the weeks went on, the transformation in his speech became undeniable. His voice took on a thicker Jersey inflection, and words like ābroā and āyoā started slipping out naturally, almost without him realizing it. He spoke with more confidence, more swagger, his words carrying a weight that hadnāt been there before.
He even noticed how loud heād become, but it wasnāt obnoxiousāit felt like he was owning the room. His friends started to comment on it, but Alex didnāt mind. It felt like the way he was supposed to talk, like his voice was finally matching the rest of his transformation.
One night, Alex found himself scrolling through YouTube, where he came across a Dom Mazzetti video. He clicked on it, expecting to laugh at the over-the-top persona, but something else happened. As Dom joked about gym culture, diet, and lifting, Alex found himself nodding along, relating to the lifestyle. The gym wasnāt just a place to work out anymoreāit was part of who he was becoming.
The next few weeks passed in a blur. Alexās days revolved around the gym, tanning, and repping his heritage with pride. He found himself following more content creators who embodied the same mindsetāguys who lived for the grind, the lifts, and the pride in who they were.
His roommate Frank noticed the changes, too. āBro, youāre looking jacked,ā Frank said one afternoon as Alex flexed in the mirror before heading out to the gym. āYou flexing the gains hard now.ā
Alex grinned, running a hand through his hair, which heād started gelling back every morning. āYeah, man. It just feels right, you know?ā
Frank clapped him on the shoulder, a proud smirk on his face. āTold ya. Once you get in the groove, thereās no going back. Youāre one of us now, bro. Tanning, lifting, and heritage. Welcome to the crew.ā
Alex chuckled, feeling Frankās words sink in. Wasnāt just about the workouts or the diet no more. It was the whole packageāthe attitude, the pride, the way he carried himself. Heād become confident, bold, and unapologetic. The gym had become his temple, and every flex in the mirror, every perfectly tanned muscle, reminded him of how far heād come.
He spoke with more confidence now, his voice carrying a thick Jersey accent that seemed to come naturally. Words like ābroā and āyoā slipped out effortlessly, and he found himself embracing the louder, more assertive side of himself. Even his walk had changedāthere was more swagger, more presence.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
A few weeks later, Alex and Frank were sitting in the living room, scrolling through profiles of potential new roommates. Their lease was ending soon, and they needed to find someone to fill the third room. Frank leaned back in his chair, sipping a protein shake as he swiped through a list of candidates.
āYo, check this one out,ā Alex said, pausing on a profile. āMarco Ricci. Italian last name.ā
Frank raised an eyebrow and leaned in, studying the screen. āOh shit, an Italian? Thatās promising.ā
They opened Marcoās profile, but instead of seeing someone flexing or rocking a tan, Marco looked... pretty regular. He wasnāt out of shape, but he wasnāt exactly lifting heavy either. Pale, with a pretty average physique, he was the kind of guy who didnāt seem to spend much time at the gym. His shirt was plain, and his expression, while friendly, was far from the confident swagger Alex and Frank had come to expect in their circle.
Alex chuckled, nudging Frank. āDudeās kinda pasty, huh?ā
Frank smirked. āYeah, bro. Definitely needs some work. But Rome wasnāt built in a day, you know? Heās got the Italian bloodāthatās what counts. We can mold him.ā
Alex nodded, his mind already racing. Marco might not be there yet, but with the right guidance, who knows? The guy had potential. He just needed some direction.
āYeah,ā Alex said, swiping right on Marcoās profile. āWeāll get him there. If heās down to move in, I have the perfect playlist in mind."
Frank chuckled deeply, shaking his head. āBro, he wonāt know what hit him.ā
Alex grinned, flexing in the mirror nearby. āHey, Rome wasnāt built in a day, right?ā
Frank laughed again, raising his protein shake in a mock toast. āDamn straight, bro."
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